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LIBRARY OF CONGRESS, 

PRESENTED BY 

UNITED STATES OP AMERICA. 



FENELON'S 

(JontiprsaHons toiflj jflR. bt jEemsai 



THE TRUTH OF RELIGION 



WITH HIS LETTERS ON 



THE IMMORTALITY OF THE SOUL 



THE FREEDOM OF THE WILL 



Translated, from the French by 

A. E. S1LLIMAN 



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MDCCCLXIX 




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PREFACE. 



In perusing the beautiful edition of Fenelon, lately 
published at Paris, edited by M. Aime Martin, we were 
struck with the force and , spirit of the following 
" Conversations on the Truth of Religion," from 
the pen of the Chevalier de Ramsai, contained in its 
Introduction, and thought, as there was apparently no 
English translation here, that a few leisure hours might 
be agreeably, perhaps profitably, employed in an en- 
deavor to translate them for the benefit of those who 
may not have met them in the volumes alluded to, or 
otherwise. As a sketch of the dramatis persona? may 
add interest to their perusal, we quote the following 
from literary sources : The Marquis de St. Simon, that 
caustic and most severe delineator of the principal 
characters of the reign of Louis XIV., thus speaks of 
Fenelon : " This prelate was tall, thin, well made, with 
a large nose, and eyes from which the fire and spirit 
poured forth as a torrent, and a physiognomy unlike 
any that I have ever met ; a countenance which, once 
seen, could never be forgotten. It combined within itself 
everything, yet the opposites did not conflict. It pos- 
sessed gravity and agreeableness, seriousness and gaiety; 
and its toui ensemble indicated equally the scholar, 



the bishop, and the great lord. That which radiated 
preeminently from it, as well as from all his person, 
was elegance, spirit, grace, propriety, and, above all, 
nobility. It required an effort to withdraw your eyes 
from him. All of his portraits are speaking, without 
having been able, nevertheless, to catch the exactness 
of the harmony, that was so striking in the original, 
and the delicacy of each character, which this so 
peculiar countenance combined. His manners were 
responsive to his physical features ; there was in them 
an ease which imparted itself to others, and that 
peculiar air of elegance and good taste, that can be 
acquired only in the habitual society of the great; 
an elegance which shone forth in brilliancy in all his 
conversation.*' 

Dr. Channing, whose resemblance to Fenelon in 
dignity, purity, talent and truth, is singularly strik- 
ing, thus speaks of him: "Fenelon saw far into the 
human heart, and especially into the lurkings of self- 
love. He looked with a piercing eye through the 
disguises of sin. But he knew sin, not as other men 
do, by bitter experience of its power, so much as by 
his knowledge and experience of virtue. Deformity 
was revealed to him by his refined perceptions and 
intense love of moral beauty. The light which he 
carried with him into the dark corners of the human 
heart, and by which he laid open its most hidden 
guilt, was that of celestial goodness. Hence, though 
the severest of censors, he is the most pitying. Not a 



tone of asperity escapes him. He looks on human 
error with an angel's tenderness, with tears which an 
angel might shed, and thus reconciles and binds us to 
our race at the very moment of revealing its corrup- 
tions. That Fenelon's views of human nature were 
dark, too dark, we learn from almost every page of his 
writings; and at this we cannot wonder. He was 
early thrown into the very court from which Roche 
foucauld drew his celebrated ' Maxims,' perhaps the 
spot, above all others on the face of the earth, dis- 
tinguished, and disgraced by selfishness, hypocrisy and 
intrigue. When we think of Fenelon in the palace 
of Louis XIV., it reminds us of a seraph sent on a 
divine commission into the abodes of the lost ; and 
when we recollect that in that atmosphere he composed 
his ' Telemachus,' we doubt whether the records of 
the world furnish stronger evidence of the power of a 
divine virtue, to turn temptation into glory and 
strength, and to make even crowned and prosperous 
vice a means of triumph and exaltation." 

Of M. de Ramsai there is this historical record: 
" Andrew Michael Ramsay, frequently styled the 
Chevalier Ramsay, was a polite writer, born in Scot- 
land, of an ancient family, A. D. 1668. After receiving 
a liberal education at St. Andrews, he went to Holland, 
(and we infer that it was at this time that the ' Con- 
versations ' alluded to, took place.) M. de Ramsai, 
having first been Governor to the Duke de Chateau 
Thiery and the Prince de Turenne, was created Knight 



6 

of St. Lazarus, and afterwards sent for to Rome by the 
Chevalier de St. George, styled then James III., King 
of Great Britain, to take charge of the education of 
his children. He returned to Scotland in the year 
1724, and resided some years in the family of the 
Duke of Argyle, where he occupied himself with 
literary pursuits — had the title of LL. D conferred on 
him by Oxford A. D. 1730, returned subsequently to 
France, and resided with the Prince de Turenne until 
his death, A.D. 1743. He wrote on various subjects — 
belles lettres, political economy, religion, biography," 
and in the latter published a history of the life 
and works of Fenelon, from which the following 
extract purports to have been taken. 

The Book of " Maxims." alluded to in the text, was 
elicited by the persecutions of the celebrated Madame 
Guy on, the purity of whose character and doctrines 
Fenelon felt himself called irpon to defend ; and 
he there cited, in her behalf, the authority of the 
ablest and most revered scholars of the Roman 
Catholic Church. His enemies, through Mad. de 
Main tenon, persuaded the arrogant and bigoted Louis 
XIV. to demand from Rome its condemnation. The 
demand was complied with under threats^ but with 
manifest reluctance, and after months of delay. " In- 
trigue and calumny had not sufficed; that nothing 
should be wanting to the glory of the condemned, 
there were added supplications, entreaties, and finally 
the menaces of a king." While those of us not of the 



Roman Catholic Church, look with astonishment at such 
submission from a mind so exalted, we find the solution 
of the mystery in the principle laid down in these 
" Conversations," and cannot but admit the consistency 
and truthfulness of Fenelon, in surrendering at once, 
and without a murmur, his individual judgment to 
the decision of what he believed to, be the Court of 
Final Appeal, in all questions pertaining to religion. 

We have also translated Fenelon's examinations of 
the questions of the " Immortality of the Soul," and 
the larger portion of that on "The Freedom of the 
Will ; " questions as deeply interesting now as they 
were thousands of years ago. 

It is hardly necessary to say that these translations 
have been made in no spirit of sect — assuredly not 
of any which would interpose the most distant barrier 
to the boundless freedom of the Soul in its conscien- 
tious worship, of the Deity — but simply to place 
before the reader a spirited and intelligent examination 
of the question of the truth of Revealed Religion by 
enlightened and educated mind. 



CONVERSATIONS OF FENELON AND M. DE RAMSAI 



THE TRUTH OF RELIGION. 



In the year 1710, I had the honor to see M. de 
Cambrai (Fenelon) for the first time. I deem it my 
duty to relate the conversations I had with him on 
the subject of Religion, because they indicate the 
character of his spirit, and show, at the same time, 
that far from conducing to a subtle Deism and an 
independence of all visible authority, as his adversaries 
have sometimes insinuated, his piety furnished, on the 
contrary, the most solid proofs of his Christianity and 
Catholicism. 

Born in a free country, where the human spirit 
exhibits itself under all its forms without constraint, 
T had examined the majority of religions to arrive at 
the truth. The fanaticism, or the contradiction which 
reigned in the various Protestant systems, disgusted 
me with all the sects of Christianity. 



10 

As my heart was not corrupted by violent passions, 
my spirit could not approve of the absurdities of 
Atheism. To believe that nothing was the source 
of all that is — the finite Eternal, or the Infinite, an 
assemblage of all limited beings — appeared to me 
extravagancies more unwarrantable than the most 
senseless dogmas of any sect of believers, 

I chose, then, to take refuge in a sage Deism, which 
confined itself to a respect for the Divinity, and to the 
immutable ideas of pure virtue, without caring either 
for exterior worship, the priesthood, or the mysteries. 
I could not, nevertheless, shake off my respect for the 
Christian religion, the morality of which is so sub- 
lime. A thousand doubts presented themselves to 
overwhelm my spirit. To precipitate myself headlong 
into Deism appeared to me a bold step ; to take refuge 
in any sect of Christianity, a puerile feebleness. I 
wandered here and there in the vague principles of an 
extreme toleration, without being able to find a fixed 
point. It was in this disposition that I arrived at 
Cambrai. 

M. the Archbishop, received me with that paternal 
and affectionate kindness which gains the heart at 
once. I entered with him, during the space of six 
months, into a very extended examination of religion. 
I cannot recount here all that he said to me upon this 
subject. I simply relate the substance. This is nearly 
the way in which, in conversation, I explained to him 
my principles. 



11 

God requires no other worship than the love of his 
infinite perfection, from whence flow all the virtues, 
human and divine, moral and civil. All the philoso- 
phers, all the wise men, all the nations have had some 
ideas of this natural Religion ; but they have mingled 
it with dogmas more or less true, and have expressed 
it by a worship more or less proper. All forms of 
Religion are agreeable to the Supreme Being, where 
the ceremonies, opinions, and even errors themselves of 
a sect, are made use of to lead us to adoration of 
the Divinity. An external worship is necessary; but 
the different forms of this worship are, as the different 
forms of civil government, more or less good, according 
to the use that is made of them. I cannot admit that 
true religion should be confined to any particular 
society. I admire the morality of the Gospel ; but all 
speculative opinions are matters of indifference, of 
which the Sovereign Wisdom takes little note. 

He answered : " You cannot rest in your philosophic 
independence, nor in your vague tolerance of all sects, 
without regarding Chr" tianity as an imposture ; for. 
there can be no reasonable medium between Deism 
and Catholicism." 

This idea appeared to me a paradox. I begged him 
to explain it. He continued : " It is necessary to con- 
fine yourself to a natural Religion, founded on the 
idea of God, renouncing all law, supernatural or 
revealed ; or, if one is admitted, to recognize some 
supreme authority which speaks at all times as its 



12 

interpreter. Without this fixed and visible authority, 
the Christian Church would be like a Republic, to 
whom wise laws were given, but without magistrates 
to enforce them. What a source of confusion ! 
Each one would come, the book of laws in his hands, 
to dispute their sense. The divine books would serve 
no other purpose than to nourish our vain curiosity, 
jealousy of opinion, and haughty presumption. There 
would be indeed but one text, but as many different 
manners of interpreting it as heads. The divisions 
and subdivisions would multiply themselves without 
end, and without resource. Has not our Sovereign 
Lawgiver provided better for the peace of his Repub- 
lic, and the conservation of his law? Besides, if 
there were not an infallible authority which says 
to all of us, 'There is the true sense of the Holy 
Scriptures,' how could the ignorant peasant and sim- 
ple artisan engage in an examination where the 
learned themselves cannot accord ? God would have 
failed to the need of nearly all men in giving them a 
written law, if he had not furnished them, at the same 
time, with a sure interpreter, to spare them a research 
of which they are incapable. Every simple and sincere 
man has but to recognize his own well felt ignor- 
ance to perceive the absurdity of all the sects, who 
ground their separation from the Catholic Church 
on the offer of making him a judge of matters which 
surpass the natural capacity of his mind. Ought we 
to believe the new reform, which demands the impos- 



13 

sible, or the Ancient Church, which provides for human 
helplessness ? " 

" Finally, it is necessary to reject the Bible as a 
fiction, or to submit to this Church Consult the 
sacred books — examine the extent of the promises 
which Jesus Christ has made to the hierarchy, deposi- 
tory of his law. He says, that all that she shall bind 
upon the earth shall be bound in Heaven ; that he 
will be with her to the consummation of ages; that 
the gates of hell shall not prevail against her; that 
he who listens to her, listens to Him; that he who 
despises her, despises Him; and, finally, that she 
is the base and column of Truth. You cannot elude 
the force of these terms by any commentary; you have 
no resource other than in rejecting altogether the 
authority of the Lawgiver and that of his Law." 

What! Monseig-keur, said I to him, with impetu- 
osity, would you have me regard any society on the 
earth as infallible? I have examined the majority of 
sects. Permit me to say, with all the respect that is 
due to you, that the priests of all religions are often 
more corrupt, or more ignorant, than other men. They 
are all equally suspected by me. 

He answered, in a tone gentle and temperate : " If we 
do not elevate ourselves above that which is human, in 
the most numerous assemblies of the Church, we shall 
find naught there but what shocks us, disgusts us, and 
nourishes our incredulity — passions, prejudices, human 
infirmities, policy, factions, and cabals. But the Divine 



14 

power is all the more to be admired in that it accom- 
plishes its designs by means which appear of a 
character to destroy them. It is here that the Holy 
Spirit shows itself master of the human heart. It 
causes all that appears defective in particular pastors 
to serve to the accomplishment of its promises; and 
by a Providence always attentive, watches the moment 
of their decision, and renders it still conformable to its 
will. It is thus that God acts in all, and everywheie. 
In the powers, civil and ecclesiastical, all obey his 
laws, and accomplish his designs in a manner, neces- 
sary or free. It is not the holiness of our superiors, 
nor their personal talents, which render our obedience 
a divine virtue, but the inward submission of the 
mind to the order of God." 

I requested time to weigh the force of this reason- 
ing. I reviewed it in my spirit. I examined it night 
and day. I came to the conclusion, finally, after long 
research and reflection, that we could not admit of a 
revealed law without submitting it to its living inter- 
preter. But this truth made an impression on me 
entirely different from that which it naturally should 
have done. My soul enveloped itself in thick clouds. 
I felt all the attacks of incredulity. 

During the time of this extreme agitation, I was 
violently tempted to leave him. I began to suspect 
his integrity. There was but one way to surmount 
my distress; it was to confide it to him. What strug- 
gles did I not undergo before I was able to arrive at 



15 

this simplicity! It was necessary, nevertheless, to 
come to it. I asked of him then a private audience. 
He accorded it to me; I threw myself on my knees 
before him, and said, "Pardon, MoNSMGNEUR,the excess 
of. my distress. Your sincerity is suspected by me, 
and I cannot longer listen to you with docility. If 
the Church is infallible, you have then condemned the 
doctrine of pure love, in condemning your book of 
'Maxims.' If you have not condemned this doctrine, 
your submission was feigned. I find myself under the 
cruel necessity of regarding you as an enemy to either 
charity or truth." 

Scarcely had I pronounced these words than I burst 
into tears. He raised me, embraced me with tender- 
ness, and said : " The Church has not condemned pure 
love in condemning my book. This doctrine is taught 
in all the Catholic schools; but the terms I made use 
of to explain it were not proper for a dogmatical work. 
My book is of no value; I no longer esteem it. It 
was the blight of my spirit, and not the fruit of the 
unction of the heart. I do not wish you to read it." 

He here said to me all that I have related heretofore 
in speaking of this work, and explained the matter 
thoroughly. [M. de Ramsai alludes here to what he 
has said in another place, relative to the submission of 
the Bishop of Cambrai to the judgment which con- 
demned the Book of " Maxims."] 

This conversation dissipated my distrust as regarded 
his person; nevertheless, my doubts on religion in- 



10 

creased. I saw that in reasoning philosophically, it 
behooved me to become either Catholic or Deist; but 
sage Deism appeared to me an extreme more reason- 
able than Catholicism. Truth fled from my spirit, 
while gentle peace abandoned my heart. I fell into a 
profound melancholy. Some weeks passed thus, 
without my being able to speak to him. He essayed 
many times to open my heart, and did it in a manner 
so affectionate that I could not resist. 

Finally, I said to him, in a trembling voice : " Your 
last conversation has had a strange influence on me. 
All my reading and research no longer amount to 
anything. I see now that there is no reasonable 
medium between Deism and Catholicism But, rather 
than believe all that the Catholics ordinarily believe, 
I choose to cast myself into the other extreme. I 
intrench myself in that pure Deism, which is equally 
remote from insipid credulity, and extreme unbelief. 
My faith, disengaged from the multiplicity of uncer- 
tain opinions, subtle and shocking, reduces itself to 
the religion eternal, universal and immutable of Love. 
To feel its truth, every man has but need to reenter 
within himself." 

"How few men are there," replied he,. " who are 
capable to reenter thus within themselves, to consult 
pure reason ! Suppose there were some here and 
there, who could walk in this purely intellectual path ; 
nevertheless, the common mass of men are incapable 
of it, and have need of exterior aid. The subtle 



17 

passions of the mind blind no less than do the grosser 
passions. The first truths escape sometimes even the 
most philosophic minds. They find no longer fixed 
principles to arrest them in the torrent of uncertainty 
which sweeps them on. 

" As in civil society it is necessary to commit reason 
to writing y to reduce its precepts into a body of 
laws, and to establish magistrates to execute them, 
because all men are not in a state to consult and 
follow, by themselves, the natural law; so in reli- 
gion, men not being willing to listen with attention 
to, nor to follow by love, the interior path of sover- 
eign wisdom, nothing was more worthy of God than 
to speak himself to his creatures in a sensible manner, 
to convince the incredulous, to fix the visionary, to 
instruct the ignorant, and to unite them all in the 
belief of the same truths, practice of the same worship, 
and submission to the same Church. Why do you re- 
coil against a succor so necessary for human feebleness, 
failing which, nations the most learned and polished, 
have fallen into the grossest errors in regard to divinity 
and morality 1 " 

The philosophy of Love, said I, interrupting him, 
with warmth, is common to all spirits, to all nations, 
and to all religions. Vestiges of it are found every- 
where, even in the bosom of Paganism . Unsophisticated 
minds have practiced it, better perhaps, than philoso- 
phers have spoken of it. Each sect has mingled with 
it absurd opinions. I find them in the Bible, as 



18 

everywhere else. But, Moj^seigneue, forgive me for 
speaking to you thus. I fear thac T blaspheme that of 
which I am ignorant. 

He remained some time in silence without answering 
me, and then said : " He who lias not felt all the conflict 
which you undergo to arrive at the truth, knows not 
its price. Open your heart to me. Do not fear to 
shock me. I see your wound, it is deep ; but it is not 
without remedy, since you disclose it. 11 

I continued: It appears to me that the legislator 
of the Jews represents to us the Supreme Being as a 
tyrant who renders all the human race miserable, 
because their first father eat a forbidden fruit. They 
could not have participated before their existence in 
this slight fault ; nevertheless, God has j)unished them 
for it, not only by corporeal sufferings and death, but 
m delivering them over to all the passions, and finally, 
to eternal pains. According to the common belief, 
God forgot all the nations of the earth, to occupy 
himself with a people, gross, rebellious, unjust, and 
cruel — the dogmas and manners of whom, appear un- 
worthy of the Divinity. 

A second lawgiver comes. His morality is more 
sublime^ and his manners more pure, I - do not say, 
with certain rash spirits, that he was an impostor. I 
believe him an excellent philosopher, who sought to 
render men good and happy, by teaching them the 
true worship of the Supreme Being. But the pre- 
tended depositaries of his law have drowned it in a 



19 

multitude of absurd fictions, of obscure dogmas, of 
frivolous opinions, which render the Creator less lovely 
to his creature. 

He listened to me to the end with admirable tran- 
quility, and then said: "God has so tempered the 
light and the shade in his oracles, that this mingling 
is a source of life for those who search the truth to 
love him, and an abyss of darkness for those who 
combat it to flatter their passions. The most of the 
objections that you raise are false and malicious con- 
structions, which the incredulous give to religion. 
Listen to me, if you please, an instant, with attention. 
Here is another j3lan of the Bible : 

" God would be loved as he merits, before permitting 
himself to be seen as he is. The luminous light of 
his essence would determine us invincibly to love him, 
but he demands to be adored with a love free and of 
pure choice. It is for this that all free beings pass 
through a state of proof before being able -to attain 
the supreme blessedness of their nature. The com- 
mencement of their existence is a noviciate of love. 

" The angels and our first parents having abused 
their liberty in a paradise of immortality and delight, 
God changed our state of probation into a mortal 
state, mingled with good and evil ; that the experience 
of the nothingness and hollowness which are found 
in the creature should make us desire, without ceasing, 
a better life. Since that time, we are all born with a 



20 

tendency to evil. Our souls are condemned to terrestrial 
prisons, which obscure our spirits and weigh down 
our hearts; but, by the grace of the Liberator, this 
concupisence is not an invincible force which drags us 
down ; it is but the occasion of combat, and through 
that a source of merit. To love Grod in privations 
and pain is a state more meritorious than that of the 
angels, who love him amid pleasure and joy. This is 
the mystery of the Cross, so scandalous to the imagi- 
nation and self-love of profane men. 

"We are born, then, all sick; but the remedy is 
always present to cure us. The light which instructs 
every man coining into the world never fails to any. 
This Sovereign wisdom has spoken differently, accord- 
ing to different times and different places; to some by 
the supernatural law, and by the miracles of the 
prophets; to others by the law of nature, and by the 
wonders of Creation. ' Each one will be judged by 
4 the law that he has known, and not by that which 
1 he has not known.. No one will be condemned, 
' except that he has not profited by that which he has 
4 known, to merit to know more.' [St. Aug.] 

" Finally, God came himself, under a flesh similar 
to our own, to expiate sin, and to give us the model 
of worship which is due to him. Grod could not 
pardon the criminal without showing his horror of the 
crime; it is what he owed to his justice, and it is 
what Jesus Christ alone could do. He has shown to 



21 

men and angels, unci all the celestial spirits, the infinite 
opposition of the Divinity to the destruction of order, 
since it cost such agony to the man — God. 

" Besides, this sacrifice of Jesus Christ, immolated in 
homage to divine holiness — his profound annihilation 
before the Supreme Being, his infinite love of order — 
will be the eternal model of the love, of the adoration, 
of the homage of all intelligences. It is by this that 
they will learn what they owe to the Supreme Being, 
in seeing the worship which he rendered to himself 
through sainted humanity. The religion of this 
eternal Pontiff consists alone in charity. The sacra- 
ments, the ceremonies, the priesthood, are only salutary 
aids to solace our feebleness — sensible signs to nourish, 
in ourselves and in others, the knowledge and the love 
of our common Father; or, finally, means necessary to 
retain us in order, union, and obedience. 

"Soon these means will cease —the shadows will 
disappear; the true temple will open; our bodies will 
arise glorious, and God will communicate eternally 
with his creatures, not only according to his pure 
Divinity, but under a human form, to show us all the 
mysteries of his esseuce and the wonders of his 
creation. 

"This is the general plan of Providence; this is, so 
to speak, the philosophy of the Bible. Can there be 
anything more worthy of God, or more consoling to 
man than these hio-h and noble ideas? Should we 



22 

not wish to believe them true, supposing even that 
their truth could not be demonstrated?" 

I replied: May not Moses and Jesus Christ have 
formed this beautiful system through a spirit of 
philosophy, without any divine commission ? May 
they not have supposed an intercourse with the 
Divinity — not to deceive men, but to give credit to 
their law, and through that to render us good and 
happy in teaching us true morality? 

He answered: "Moses and Jesus Christ have proved 
their mission by supernatural acts, which bear the 
character of an infinite power and wisdom. 

u I do not speak of the miracles of Moses, nor of the 
incorruptible transmission, even down to us, of the 
books which contain their history. You can see their 
proofs in the excellent discourse of M. de Meaux sur 
THistoire Universelle. He has shown the chain of 
tradition from the origin of the world. He has 
fortified it by reflections which indicate equally the 
grasp of his mind and the extent of his knowledge. 

" Neither do I speak of facts predicted in these 
ancient books, which demanded, not only a divine 
wisdom to foretell them, but an infinite power to 
accomplish them. Such was the conversion of the 
Gentiles to Christianity — an event which, depending 
on the free cooperation of men, showed that the God 
who had revealed it had an incommunicable power 
over the heart. 



23 

" I do not enter," continued he, " into the details of 
these facts, which indicate visibly that the law of the 
Jews came from on high. I go straight to Christianity. 
In demonstrating its truth, that of Judaism is proved, 
since the lawgiver of the Christians has believed it 
divine. 

" The miracles of Jesus Christ have not been per- 
formed in a corner, in impenetrable retreats, nor in 
deep caverns, but in the face of an inimical, incredu- 
lous people — miracles published afterwards, and 
renewed by the Apostles in many different nations — 
miracles, which these nations had a powerful interest 
to denounce as false, had falsity been suspected. Our 
Lord nourished a multitude of people with two or 
three loaves. He healed the incurably sick by a 
simple word. He caused the dead to come out from 
the tomb. He raised himself. All was of public 
notoriety, where the least imposture would have been 
easy of discovery. It was not a question of tricks 
which fascinate the eye, of feats of activity, or subtle 
operations of physics, but of palpable facts, visibly con- 
trary to the common laws of nature. The simple and 
the wise were equally judges of them. They had but 
to open their eyes to convince themselves of their 
truth. 

'Besides, all bear the character of an infinite good- 
ness and power, which acts without parade, and from 
whom the miracles appear to escape through compas- 
sion to men, to solace their corporeal miseries, or to 



24 

heal their spirits. These miracles have been performed 
solely to establish the true worship of the Divinity. 

Jesus Christ fissures us that he has made them only to 
lead man back to his own proper heart, to there 
search the proofs of his doctrine, of which the end and 
consummation is Charity. 

"Finally, the principal ocular witnesses of these 
miraculous facts cannot be suspected. It is possible 
that men, through prejudice or obstinacy, might suffer 
all hinds of evil to sustain speculative errors, because 
they could persuade themselves, in good faith, that 
they were truths. But that men, without any view of 
pleasure or ambition — of recompense, temporal or 
eternal — should expose themselves to all manner of 
present evils, and thereafter to the avenging justice of 
a God, enemy to falsehood, to sustain that they had 
heard with their ears, and seen with their eyes, things 
that had never been : such disinterested love of malice 
and imposture is absolutely incompatible with human 
nature — above all, in men who passed their lives in 
practising and teaching the most sublime morality that 
has ever been. 

u Can these three characters of truth be found in 
the pretended miracles of magicians and impostors, of 
Apollonius or Mahomet? They could give to men a 
spectacle of ostentation to surprise them, to amuse 
them, to render themselves their masters. But have 
they done things of such public notoriety, seen by 
similar witnesses, to establish a morality so pure? 



25 

" The religion of Moses, considered by itself, and 
without connection to Christianity, might be suspected 
of policy. It might be said that the magicians of 
Egypt, having imitated a part of his prodigies, he did 
but surpass them in the magic art. But, in the religion 
of Jesus Christ, there is seen no pretext for incredulity, 
no shade of policy, no vestige of human interest. 
The miracles prove the divine mission of the Law- 
giver; and the purity of his law shows that the 
miracles were not deceptions. If a legislator wished 
to deceive men by false prodigies, and to abuse their 
credulity to render himself their master, would he 
invent a religion which destroys the entire man, wdiich 
renders him a stranger to himself, which overturns the 
idolatry of Self, which obliges us to love Gocl more 
than ourselves, and to love ourselves only for him ? 
Jesus Christ demands of us this love, not only as a 
homage to the Divine perfection, but as a means 
necessary to render us happy. 

"Exiled here below during a moment infinitely 
short, Jesus Christ teaches us to regard this life as the 
infancy of our being, and as an obscure night, of 
which all the pleasures are but fleeting dreams, and 
the evils salutary disgusts, to cause us to tend to our 
true country. Penetrated with our nothingness, our 
helplessness, our darkness, he teaches us to open our 
hearts, without ceasing, before the Being of beings, 
that he may retrace in us his image; that he may 
embellish us with his beauty, enlighten us and animate 



20 

us; that lie may give us well being, as well as being, 
reason as well as life, our perfect loves as our truer 
lights; that he may thus produce in us all the virtues, 
human and divine, till beino- conformed to himself' he 
can absorb and consummate us in his Divine unity. 

"This is the adoration, in spirit and in truth, which 
the Scriptures propose, adoration which man finds so 
conformed to his natural ideas when it is explained to 
him — adoration, nevertheless, of which there is hardly 
seen a trace in the most refined Paganism It was only 
at a later period, and after Christianity had enlight- 
ened the world, that the pagan philosophers — Arabs 
and Persians — borrowed this language, which they 
have always spoken imperfectly. 

u All sustains itself in Jesus Christ ; his manners 
respond to his morality. This divine lawgiver did not 
content himself with giving to men dry and naked 
precepts of a sublime morality. He practised it 
himself, and placed before our eyes the example of an 
accomplished virtue, which had nothing, and which 
pretended to nothing on the earth. All his life was 
but a tissue of suffering, a perpetual adoration, a pro- 
found annihilation before the Supreme Being, an 
unbounded submission to the divine will, and an 
infinite love of order. He- died finally as if aban- 
doned of God and men, to show that perfect virtue, 
sustained by the sole love of justice, could remain 
faithful amid the most terrible sufferings, without any 
shadow of sensible support, whether celestial or ter- 



27 

restrial Was there ever seen a similar lawgiver, or a 
similar law? The true Love developed, purified, and 
perfectly jDractised, can be found only with the Chris- 
tian. 

" The establishment of such a religion among men 
is the greatest of all miracles. In spite of the Roman 
power, in spite of the passions, the interests, the preju- 
dices of so many nations, of so many philosophers, of 
so many different religions, twelve poor fisherman, 
without art, without eloquence, without force, spread 
everywhere their doctrine, and notwithstanding a per- 
secution of three centuries, which ajjpeared ready to 
extinguish it at any moment; notwithstanding the 
perpetual martyrdom of an innumerable number of 
persons of all conditions, of all sexes, of all countries, 
truth triumphed finally over error, according to the 
predictions of the old and new law. Where can be 
shown any other religion which bears these visible 
marks of a divinity that protected it? 

"That a conquerer should establish by force of arms 
the belief of a religion which flatters the senses ; that 
a wise lawgiver should make himself listened to and 
respected by the utility of his laws — that a sect, 
accredited and sustained by the civil law, should 
abuse the credulity of the people; all that is possible. 
But what could the victorious, learned and incredu- 
lous nations have seen to have induced them to 
surrender themselves so promptly to Jesus Christ, Avho 
promised them nothing in this world but suffering 



2S 

and persecution — who proposed to their belief mys- 
teries at which the human mind revolts, and the 
practise of a morality which sacrifices all our most 
favorite passions; in one word, a faith and a worship 
which drives both our reason and self-love into 
despair ! ' Would it not have been a miracle greater 
' and more incredible than those we are not willing to 
' believe, to have converted the world to a similar 
4 religion without miracles 1 ' ' (St. Aug.) 

I replied : Your views, Mo^seigneur, impress and 
penetrate me. Nevertheless, I feel always inclined 
to regard facts so distant as having been perhaps 
exaggerated, perverted, or imagined by the priests and 
by politicians, who make use of Religion to domineer 
over the people. 

"The truth of these facts cannot be doubted," he 
answered, "since the books which contained their 
history have been received and translated by a great 
number of different peoples as soon as they have 
appeared. They have been read in the assemblies of 
nearly all nations from age to age. No one has, 
nevertheless, accused them of falsity — neither the 
Jews, nor the Pagans, nor the Heretics, although they 
had a powerful interest to contradict them, and to 
unmask the imposture. The Jews said, it is true, that 
Jesus Christ had performed these miracles by magic, 
but they did not reject them as suppositious. The 
Pagans could not deny these facts any more than the 
Jews. Celsus, Porphyri, Julian the Apostate, Plotinus 



29 

and other philosophers, who, from thee arliest time, 
attacked Christianity with all the subtilty imaginable 
acknowledged the miracles of Jesus Christ, the holi- 
ness of his life, and the authority of the books that 
contained their history. Finally, the numerous and 
successive sects which have troubled the Church in 
each age, prove invincibly that the sacred text could 
not have been corrupted without the imposture having 
been discovered. Thus, in going back from age to age 
to Jesus Christ, the Christians, the Heretics, the Jews, 
the Pagans, the Greeks, the Romans, the Barbarians — 
all render testimony of the same facts and the same 
books. As the certainty of our ideas depends on the 
universality and immutability of the evidence which 
accompanies them, in the same manner, the certainty of 
facts depends upon the universality and the immuta- 
bility of the tradition which confirms them. Is it 
possible that the' whole of a nation, and thereafter 
many different nations, should have been made to 
believe that they had seen with their eyes, and heard 
with their ears, things which had never been; that the 
memory of these suppositious facts should have per- 
petuated itself boldly, successively, universally, in all 
ages, by different jDeoples, whose interests, religions 
and prejudices were opposed to it ; that these peoples 
should conspire with their enemies to spread an illusion 
which condemned and confounded them; and that, 
nevertheless, in the actual time of the imposture, nor 
in the following ages, it should not have been 



30 

unmasked ? That, I insist, is not only incredible, but 
absolutely impossible.' 1 

I am delighted, said I, to see this union of proofs 
drawn from miracles and morality, from the interior 
spirit of the law, and the exterior prodigies of the 
Lawgiver. The base and mercenary ideas which are 
commonly entertained of Religion appeared to me 
unworthy of a divine mission. I suspected the mira- 
cles of the Lawgiver, when I knew not the beauty of 
the law. But, Monseignetjr, wherefore is there found 
in the Bible a contrast so shocking, of luminous truths 
and obscure dogmas? I could well wish to sej^arate 
the sublime ideas of which you speak from what the 
priests call mysteries. 

He answered : " Why reject so many lights that 
console the heart, because they are mingled with 
shadows which humiliate the mind? Should not 
true Religion both elevate and cast down the man — 
show him, at the same time, his grandeur and his 
feebleness? You have not yet a sufficiently compre- 
hensive idea of Christianity. It is not only a holy 
law, which purifies the heart ; it is also a mysterious 
wisdom, which conquers the spirit. It is a continual 
sacrifice of our entire self in homage to the Supreme 
reason. In practising its morality, we renounce 
pleasures for the love of the Supreme beauty. In 
believing its mysteries, we immolate our ideas out of 
respect for eternal truth. Without this double sacri- 
fice — of thoughts and passions — the holocaust is 



31 

imperfect, our victim is defective. , It is by this sacrifice 
that the entire man disappears and vanishes before the 
Being of beings. 

"The question is, not to examine whether it is 
necessary that God should thus reveal to us mysteries 
to humiliate the spirit; it is to know whether he has 
revealed them or not. If he Iras spoken to his 
creature, obedience and love are inseparable — Chris- 
tianity is a fact. Since you no longer doubt the 
proofs of this fact, the question is, not to choose what 
you will or will not believe. All the difficulties of 
which you have collected examj^les will vanish when 
the mind is cured of presumption. Then there will be 
no difficulty in believing that there is, in the Divine 
nature and the conduct of its Providence, a profound- 
ness impenetrable to our feeble reason. The Infinite 
Being ought to be incomprehensible to the creature. 
On one side is seen the Lawgiver, whose law is entirely 
divine, who proves his mission by miraculous facts, 
which cannot be doubted — by reasons as strong as 
those which we have to believe them; on the other 
we find mysteries which shock us. What is to be 
done between these two embarrassing extremes, of a 
clear Revelation and an incomprehensible obscurity? 
We find no resource other than in the sacrifice of the 
mind ; and this sacrifice is a part of the worship of the 
Supreme Being. Has not God infinite knowledge, 
which we have not ? When he reveals a portion of it 
in a supernatural manner, it does not devolve on us to 



32 

examine the liow of these mysteries, bat the certainty 
of their revelation. They appear to us inconsistent, 
without being so in fact; and this apparent incom- 
patibility arises from the feebleness of our minds, 
which have not knowledge sufficiently extended, to see 
the connection of our natural ideas with these super* 
natural truths. 

Christianity adds nothing to your pure Deism other 
than the sacrifice of the spirit, and orthodoxy simply 
perfects the sacrifice. To love purely, to believe 
humbly, there is all the Catholic religion. We have 
properly but two articles of faith — the love of one 
invisible God, and the obedience to his Church, his 
living oracle. All other particular truths absorb 
themselves in these two truths, simple and universal, 
which are within the comprehension of all minds. Is 
there anything more worthy of the Divine perfection, 
or more necessary for human feebleness ? " 

I replied : It is no longer the incomprehensible 
dogmas which arrest my faith, but certain opinions 
which have glided in among the priests and people. 
In the Jewish church, did they not obscure their law 
by uncertain traditions? I believe that the church 
would never teach errors dangerous and damnable; 
but might she not tolerate certain innocent errors, 
because they are useful, and even necessary in the 
present feebleness of human nature — such, for exam- 
ple, as the opinion as to the eternity of punishment ? 
Nothing would be more dangerous than to absolve 



33 

men from this salutary restraint. But there is nothing 
in the natural ideas we have of the Divinity, nor, 
indeed, in the Holy Scriptures, which prevents us 
from believing that, sooner or later, all created beings 
will return to order. That is the explanation which 
Origen found to justify all the measures of Provi- 
dence; there is that which responds to the objections 
of Celsus, of Bayle, of all the unbelievers — ancient 
and modern — against the Christian system. Leave 
to me this one idea, and I abandon to you all the 
rest. 

" No, no," said he; "I will leave you no resource 
against the sacrifice of the reason. Supposing that 
the Church could tolerate innocent errors, nevertheless 
as she would never teach any dangerous error, which 
could justify revolt and independence, why do you 
hesitate to submit, and to lose in the incomprehensible 
Divine, all the vain speculations which would set 
bounds to your obedience? During the obscure night 
of this life, it is not permitted to reason on the secrets 
of the Divine nature, nor upon the impenetrable 
designs of its Providence. Yet a moment, and all 
will be unveiled. God will justify his conduct. We 
shall see that his wisdom, his justice and his goodness 
are always in accord, and inseparable. It is our pride 
and our impatience which prevent our being willing 
to wait this explanation. Instead of making use of 
the ray of light which remains to us, to find our way 
out of the darkness, we lose ourselves in a labyrinth 



34 

of disputes, of errors, of chimerical systems of particu- 
lar sects, which trouble not only the present peace of 
society, but which indispose us for the true life of all 
intelligences — which have of themselves neither proper 
spirit nor projDer will; because the same universal 
reason enlightens them, and the same sovereign love 
animates them. Until now, you have wished to 
possess the truth. It is necessary henceforth that the 
truth should possess you, render you captive, and 
despoil you of all the false riches of the mind. To be 
a perfect Christian, it is requisite to be dispossessed of 
all, even ot our ideas. Catholicism alone teaches this 
evangelical poverty. Restrain, then, your imagination ; 
silence your reason ; say, without ceasing, to Grod : 
Instruct me by the heart, and not by the mind; cause 
me to love as the saints have loved. By that you will 
be safe from all fanaticism and incredulity. 11 



IMMORTALITY OF THE SOUL 



"CAN IT BE DEMONSTRATED THAT THE SOUL OF MAN IS IMMORTAL? 1 ' 

It will not he difficult to enlighten ourselves upon 
this question, if, confined within its proper limits, 
we dismiss from it, all that is extraneous. 

It is true, that the Soul of Man is not an immut- 
able essence, possessing, within itself, a necessary exist- 
ence; for there is but one being who has such 
existence; who can never lose it; and who can confer 
it, at his pleasure, on others. God requires no action 
to destroy the soul of man. It needs but for an 
instant the cessation of that, by which, he at each 
moment continues its existence, to again plunge it 
into the abyss of nothingness from which he has 
drawn it; in the same way that a man has but to 
relax his grasp of a stone held in his hand, to cause its 
fall ; it descends at once from its proper gravity. 

The question which may be reasonably asked, is, not 
whether the soul can be annihilated, in case such is 
God's pleasure ; for it is manifest that it can, and 
requires but his will to that effect. It is, whether the 
soul contains within itself natural causes of destruction. 



36 

which terminate its existence after a certain time; 
and if it can be philosophically demonstrated that it 
has not within itself, such causes. 

When we realize the very evident distinction be- 
tween the body and the soul, we are amazed at their 
union, and can conceive that it is by the power of 
God alone that two natures, so utterly dissimilar, could 
have been forced to act in concert. Bodies do not 
think Souls can neither be diminished, increased, nor 
defined ; nor have they physical properties. Ask 
of any rational man, whether the thought that is 
within him is round or square, white or yellow, warm 
or cold, divisible into six or twelve parts; if the atoms 
of which is body is composed are wise or foolish ; if 
they know each other; if they are virtuous; if they 
have friendship one for the other; if the round atoms 
are more spirited and virtuous than the square; let 
him elect atoms of such figure as he pleases ; tell him 
to sublimate them to the utmost; and then ask him 
whether the moment arrives at which, without any. 
previous acquaintance, they commence suddenly to 
know each other; to recognize all that surrounds 
them; to say to themselves, I believe this, but not 
that; I love this object, I hate that He -cannot think 
your questions serious; or, if he does, he pronounces 
them puerile; as much so, as if you talked to him of 
metamorphoses, or fairy tales 

The absurdity then of these interrogatories, indicates 
perfectly, that there enter none of the properties of the 



37 

body, into the idea which we have of the spirit, and 
none of the properties of the spirit, or thinking being, 
into that, which we entertain of the body, or physical 
being. The real distinction, and entire dissimilarity 
of these two beings, thus established, we ought not to 
be surprised that their union, which consists only in a 
species of concert, or mutual response, between the 
thoughts of the one and the movements of the other, 
can terminate without the cessation of their existence; 
on the contrary, we should the rather be astonished, 
that two beings of a nature so entirely dissimilar, 
coald have remained for any time, in harmony of oper- 
ation. With what propriety then can it be concluded, 
that one, of these two, must be annihilated, when its 
union with the other, so unnatural in itself, ceases ? 

Let us represent to ourselves, two bodies, which are 
exactly of the same nature; separate them; we destroy 
neither the one nor the other : still more, the existence 
of the one cannot prove the existence of the other; 
nor the annihilation of the one the destruction of the 
other. Though we may suppose them alike in every 
respect, their real distinction suffices to show that they 
are not necessarily the one to the other, a cause of 
existence, or destruction ; as the one is not the other, it 
can exist, or be annihilated, independently of that 
other. 

- Their distinction, then, proves their mutual freedom. 
And if we reason thus of two bodies which we divide, 
and which are entirely of the same nature, with how 



3S 

much stronger reason should we argue in like manner, 
of the spirit, and the body, in whose union there is 
nothing natural, so entirely are they unlike. While, 
on the one side, the cessation of a union, so accidental 
as that of these two existences, can be to neither a 
cause of annihilation, so on the other, the destruction 
even, of one of them, would not be of necessity,a cause 
for the annihilation of the other. A being who is not 
the author of the existence of another, cannot cause 
its annihilation. It is then clear, that the disunion 
of the body and the soul, does not necessarily effect the 
destruction of either, and that the annihilation of the 
body even, would operate in no way, necessarily, to 
terminate the existence of the soul. 

The union of the body and the soul, consisting in a 
concert of action only, or mutual response between 
the thoughts of the one and the movements of the 
other, it is easy to see what its cessation should effect. 
This concert, as we have said, is not natural; so dis- 
similar and independent are these beings, the one of 
the other. There was, but God alone, who could by 
his will, purely arbitrary and all-powerful, have sub 
jected them to work together, so diverse are they in 
their nature and operation. Let the will — purely 
arbitrary and all-powerful — of God, be withdrawn; 
this forced concert, so to say, ceases instantly; as a 
stone drops by its proper weight, when the hand no 
longer sustains it, each returns to its normal inde- 
pendence of action, as regards the other. It should 



' 39 

thence arise, that, far from being annihilated by this 
disunion, which simply returns it to its original state, 
the soul should then be free to act independently of 
the movements of the body; in the same way that I 
am free to walk alone, as it pleases me, when I am 
detached from another man to whom a superior power 
has enchained me. The end of this connection, then, 
being disembarrassment and liberty, as the union itself 
was burden and slavery, it follows, that the soul ought 
to think independently of the movements of the body; 
in like manner, as it is supposed in the Christian 
religion, that the angels, who have never been invested 
with bodies, think in Heaven. Wherefore then should 
we fear the annihilation of the soul in this disunion, 
which can but eifect its entire liberty of thought ? 

The body, on its side, is not annihilated. Not the 
least atom of it perishes. There supervenes in what 
we call death, merely a derangement of the organs; 
the most subtle corpuscles are disengaged; the machine 
dissolves, and falls to pieces; but in whatever place, 
corruption or hazard scatters the debris, not a particle, 
ceases to exist. All philosophers are of accord, in 
supposing, that there has never happened in the 
Universe, the destruction of the most imperceptible 
atom. With what propriety, then, can we fear the 
annihilation of this other very noble and thoughtful 
existence, which we call the soul \ How can we 
imagine that the body, which cannot destroy itself, 
should destroy the soul, which is more' noble, a 



4:0 

stranger to, and absolutely independent of it? The 
disunion of these two beings can effect the destruction 
of neither. It is supposed, without difficulty, that no 
atom of the body is destroyed, at the moment of this 
disunion. Wherefore, then, do so many seek with 
eagerness, pretexts, to believe that the soul, which is 
incomparably more perfect, is annihilated I It is true 
that God is always all-powerful to destroy it, if he so 
wills; but there is no reason to think that he will do 
it an}' the more, at the time of its disunion from the 
body, than in that of its union. 

That which we call death, being but a simple derange- 
ment of the corpuscles which compose the organs, it 
cannot be said, that this derangement acts on the soul, 
as on the body. The soul — a thinking existence — has 
no physical attributes; it has neither parts, nor figure, 
nor situation of parts, among themselves; nor move- 
ment, nor change of situation; thus no derangement 
can befall it. This soul, which is the me — thinking 
and willing — is a being, simple in itself, a unit, and 
indivisible. There have never been in the same one 
man, two mes, nor two halves of the same me. 

Objects arrive at the soul by various organs, stimu- 
lated by different sensations ; but all, through their 
various canals, tend to a common centre, where they 
re-unite. It is the me, which is so entirely a unit; 
that it is, by it alone, that each individual man pos- 
sesses a veritable identity, and is not many men. It 
cannot be said of this me, which thinks and wills, that 



41 

it has divers parts joined together, like the body, com- 
posed of members connected among themselves. The 
soul has neither figure, nor situation, nor local move- 
ment, nor color, nor heat, nor hardness, nor any 
sensible feature. We see it not, we hear it not, we 
touch it not; we conceive only that it thinks, and wills, 
in the same manner, as it is the nature of the body, to 
be defined, and divided. When we recognize thus, the 
real distinction between the body and the soul, it 
is necessary to conclude, without hesitation, that 
the latter has neither composition, divisibility, nor 
situation of parts, nor, consequently, arrangement of 
organs. The body, which has organs, can lose this 
arrangement of parts, change its figure, and become 
deranged; but the soul cannot lose a composition, 
which it has not, and which belongs not to its nature. 

It has been urged, that the soul having been created 
only to be united to the body, it is so limited to this 
society, that its borrowed existence must cease when the 
association with the body terminates. But it is speak- 
ing wildly, and without proof, thus to assume that the 
soul has been created with an existence confined solely, 
to the time, of its society with the body. From 
whence is this singular thought derived, and with 
what propriety is it supposed, rather than proved ? 

The body is, doubtless, less perfect than the soul ; 
since to think, is more perfect, than not to think. We 
perceive, nevertheless, that the existence of the body 
is not confined to the duration of its society with the 



42 

soul. After death has severed this connection, the 
body still exists, even to its most minute particles. 
We see two things only — the one, that the body is 
separated and disintegrated; this cannot happen to 
the soul, which is simple, indivisible, and void of 
arrangement ; the other, that the body moves no 
longer with dependence on the thoughts of the soul. 
Should we not conclude, then, in the same manner, 
and with much greater reason, that the soul continues 
to exist on its side, and, that it then commences to 
think, independently of the operations of the body? 
The effect follows the being, as all philosophers agree. 
These two existences are independent, the one of the 
other, as much in nature as in operation. As the body 
has no need of the thoughts of the soul, to be moved, 
so, the soul, requires not the movements of the body to 
think. It is by accident, alone, that these existences, so 
unlike, and so independent, are subjected to act in 
concert; and the end of their transient union, will 
again release them, to act freely, each according to its 
peculiar constitution. 

Finally, the question is not, whether God, who is 
the master to annihilate the soul of man, or to con- 
tinue its existence without end, has willed the destruc- 
tion or conservation. There is no reason to think that 
he will destroy the soul — He, who destroys not the 
least atom in the Universe ; there is no reason to think 
that he will destroy it at the moment when he separ- 
ates it from the body, rather than at any other time, 



43 

since it is an existence entirely foreign to the body, 
and independent of it. This disconnection, being but 
the end of a subjection to a certain concert of action 
with the body, it is manifest, rather, that it is the 
deliverance and release of the soul, and not the cause 
of its destruction. 

We must claim, that we have a right to assume that 
this destruction, so extraordinary, and so difficult to 
comprehend, supposes, that God, himself, has warned 
us of it in his word. What depends upon his supreme 
will, can be revealed to us, only, by himself. Those 
who wish to believe in the mortality of the soul 
against all probability, should show that God has so 
spoken, to assure us of it. It is not for us to prove 
that God wills not this destruction ; it suffices us to 
suppose, that the soul of man, which is the most 
perfect of beings which Ave know, next to God, must 
doubtless be less likely to lose its existence, than the 
other baser things which surround it; and as we know 
that the destruction of the least atom, is without 
example in the Universe, since the creation, we have 
the right to believe that the soul of man is, at 
least as the minutest atom, free from danger of anni- 
hilation. 

This is the result, the most reasonable, the most 
evident, the most decisive, at which we can arrive. It 
devolves on, the advocates of the mortality of the soul, 
to dispossess us of it, by proofs clear, and positive ; and 
they can prove it only, by the absolute declaration of 



44 

God himself. His will, free and supreme, can 
but be known through himself alone, It is, then, 

manifest, that those' advocating this theory, should 
demonstrate to us, by some declaration of God him- 
self, that he lias made the soul of man an exception, 
entirely singular to his general law, to destroy no 
being, and to preserve the least atom. They should 
show us a declaration of God pointing to this excep- 
tion. 

We produce the Book which bears all the marks 
of Divinity, since it is through it, that he has taught 
us to know and love supremely, the true God. It 
is in this book, that God speaks with such majesty, 
when he says, W I AM HE THAT IS/ 1 No other has 
represented him, in a manner worthy of him. The 
gods of Homer, are the opprobrium and derision of 
divinity. 

This volume, after having shown us God as he is, 

teaches us, the sole worship, worthy of him. It is not 
to appease him with the blood of victims : but it is, to 
love him more than ourselves; to love ourselves, only 
for him, and for his love; to renounce ourselves for 
him, and to prefer his will to our own; so, that bis 
love shall produce in us all the virtues, and extinguish 
vice. It demands the entire overthrow of the heart 
of man — which requisition, man, himself, could never 
have imagined. Man, surely, could not have invented 
a religion, which leaves him neither thought nor will — 
a religion which constitutes him entirely the property 



45 

of another. When this religion is proposed .to him, 
even from the most Supreme authority, his mind, at 
first, cannot comprehend it; his will revolts at it, and 
all his being is irritated at the demand. It is, indeed, 
not astonishing, since its fiat is, to confound the entire 
man; to degrade the me; to dash to pieces this idol; 
to form a new man; to install God in the place of the 
me, and to make him, the source and centre of our 
love. Wherever man has invented a religion, he has 
framed it very differently; selfishness has dictated it; 
he has demanded all for himself; and this leaves him 
nothing. This religion is, nevertheless, so just, that 
what we the most object to in it, is precisely that, 
which should the most convince us of its truth. God 
all, to whom all is due ; the creature nothing, to whom 
nothing should remain, save in God, and for God. All 
religion, which arrives not at this, is unworthy of God ; 
does not reclaim man, and bears the character of mani- 
fest falsehood. 

There is upon the earth, but one original book, which 
teaches that religion consists in loving God more than 
self, and a renunciation of self for Him; all others 
which repeat this great truth, have derived it from 
this one source. The volume which has thus revealed 
to the world, the Almightiness of God, — the nothingness 
of man, — with the worship of Love, cannot be other 
than divine. Either there is no religion, or this is it. 
Besides, this book, so divine in its doctrines, is full of 
prophecies, whose accomplishment is obvious to the 



46 

whole world; as, for instance, the reprobation of the 
Jews, and the calling of the idolatrous peoples to the 
true worship of Gocl by the Messiah. It is authenti- 
cated by innumerable miracles performed in broad 
day, in divers ages, in the face of the greatest enemies 
of religion. In a word, it has done all that it prom- 
ised to do; it has changed the face of the world; it 
has peopled the deserts with solitaires, who have been 
angels in mortal form ; it has caused to flourish, even 
in the most impious and corrupt nations, virtues the 
most difficult and lovely. It has persuaded man, 
idolatrous of self, to count himself as nothing, and to 
love solely an invisible Being. Such a book should be 
read as if it were descended from Heaven to earth. It 
is through it, that Gocl declares to in a truth, already 
so |)robable in itself. The same God, all good and all 
powerful, who could alone deprive us of life eternal, 
promises it to us. It is by the expectation of this life 
without end, that he has taught martyrs to despise the 
short, fragile, and miserable tenure of their bodies. Is 
it not reasonable that God, who proves, in this short 
life, each man for vice and virtue, and who often leaves 
the impious to finish their course in prosperity, while 
the just live and die amid contempt and adversity — is 
it not rational, that he should reserve, to another life, 
the chastisements of the one, and the recompense of 
the other? This is the warning which this divine 
book conveys to us — maivellous and consoling con- 
formity between the oracles of Scripture, and the truth 



which we bear imprinted within ourselves ! All is of 
accord, — philosophy, the supreme authority of the 
promises, the intimate sentiment of truth within our 
hearts. 

From whence comes it that men are so reluctant and 
incredulons, in accepting this happy revelation of their 
immortality? The impious say, that they are without 
hope; that in a few days they will be plunged, for- 
ever, into the gulf of annihilation ; they rejoice at it ; 
they exult in their approaching extinction ; they who 
so madly love themselves, they are fascinated with this 
doctrine, so full of horror; they seem to gloat over 
their despair. When we reply to them, that there is 
a resource in life eternal, they are exasperated against 
this remedy ; it incenses them ; they dread to be con- 
vinced of it; they turn all their subtilty to cavil 
against these decisive proofs. Why? Because they 
prefer to perish, in delivering themselves over to their 
insensate pride, and brutal passions, rather than to live 
eternally, constraining themselves to embrace virtue. 
Oh ! monstrous frenzy ! Oh ! insane self-love, that 
thus arms man against himself! Oh! man, become 
his own enemy, through the boundless tyranny of 
Self! 

\Note by Trahslator.~\ 

Were it not that it may be received figuratively, we 
should hardly assent to the proposition of Fenelon, 
that the union of the body and the soul is that of 



48 

accident; for of all the physical works of God, which 
we think we can comprehend, the body bears most 
strongly the impress of design, in its wonderful, com- 
plex, and perfect adaptation of means to ends. In it 
we recognize machinery of exquisite order, temporarily 
furnished to the soul, to place it in communion with 
the other material works of God — that by their study, 
it may increase in intelligence, and elevate itself in 
love to Him, who, however incomprehensible to our, 
as yet, feeble minds, in many of his dispensations, we 
feel to be the exhaustless fountain of benevolence and 
Love. 

We have learned to define the functions of this body 
into what we call senses — three: taste, smell, and feel- 
ing — intended for its' preservation and continuous 
reconstruction; and two — more noble, sight and hear- 
ing — through which, by contemplation of his Creation, 
we are to approach the Deity. The inferior, though 
necessary senses, each with appropriate stimulus to 
achieve its appointed end, and confined within its 
proper limits, furnish a lower order of pleasure to, and 
are servants of, the soul ; but if this ethereal emanation 
from the Deity, whose errand here is study of his 
works, and through them appreciation of . his goodness, 
his love, and elevation .to intelligence of higher order 
still, — if this beautiful Spirit permits itself to be 
tempted by the pleasure of the inferior senses, and 
withdraws from the contemplation of the Supreme, 
then its purity is dimmed ; it sinks degraded into that 



49 

lower mental stratum, which it participates in, in 
common with the brutes; and there — its snowy vest- 
ments soiled, and struggling in the sensual mire, God 
still continuously calling it back, through the voice of 
conscience — it lies, and wails, and sobs despairingly, in 
what we call Sin. 

Ts it not this continual conflict, which the soul 
maintains with the lower senses, that constitutes its 
school of probation here? Alas! how few of us can 
take a retrospect into our past — realize, indeed, our 
present — without a shudder, without hanging our 
heads in humiliation and shame; for, from these lower 
senses emanate, and can be legitimately traced, not 
alone the pleasures which man participates in, in 
common with the swine; but worldly ambition; pride, 
violence, selfishness, love of gold, and admiration 
of brick and mortar, called edifices; and silks and 
shining baubles, and all the other miserable nothings, 
which they blindly interpose between the soul and its 
appointed errand. 

But let us turn from this sad picture, and, for a 
moment, to the nobler senses — to vision, and its organ. 
The Spirit directs its mimic telescope, the eye, on the 
surrounding world; and instantly, reflected on the 
retina through the little pupil, it beholds, pictured as 
if by magic, oceans, mountains, forests, rivers, valleys, 
tropic vegetation, arctic snows, parents, children, 
friends — all the machinery of life and being, now sta- 
tionary, now floating in ever-changing panorama — 



50 

panorama, fraught within itself alone, with study for 
ages — till with the declining sun, darkness insensibly 
draws its veil around it, and all is lost to view, all 
animal life is hushed in silence. 

But in the darkness, the Spirit still seeks its proper 
stimulus, the light, and elevates its gaze up to the 
o'erhanging canopy. Again, the little mirror, faithful 
to its purpose, performs its duty; now reflects the 
blazing glories of the starry firmament, the constella- 
tions moving on in their appointed journies in silent 
majesty; the moon, in serene splendor, sailing amid 
her sister planets through the cold, blue ether, now 
struggling with, now joyously passing through the 
flying clouds, temporarily obscuring her, to cast again 
her soft and benignant light on all the world beneath, 
apt portraiture of the soul, in her struggles with the 
murky clouds of sense. 

Amazed, the delighted Spirit begins to reason ; it 
reasons out the lens; places it auxiliary to the little 
mirror; and straight it finds the distant stars increase 
in brilliancy — that some are nearer, 1 and that other 
stars appear, which " which were not there before." 
In exultation it enlarges its artificial aid; and now 
present themselves, far distant in the dark o'erhanging 
chasms, other, and yet other, stars; and far beyond 
them still, fleecy, fog-like nebulas : it increases the optic 
stimulus, and the dim light is resolved to glittering 
" star dust," the star dust to stars; it adds yet other 
power, and lo! the fleecy 2 nebulas expand themselves 



51 

to firmaments — firmaments glorious with suns and their 
surrounding worlds; here scintillating in their own 
proper silver splendor; here in colors of orange, g'old, 
and pale blue sapphire; and here, glowing with ruby 
and emerald — blazing in all the gorgeousness of regal 
diadem 3 — firmaments, compared with which its own, 
that which first met its uneducated gaze, was but as a 
point, a unit. 

But does the Spirit here stop, and fold its wings? 
No, 'tis but in its noviciate. With increasing aid 
which its intelligence reasons forth, and which God 
continuously extends in exact accordance with its 
patient effort, it speeds still onward; plunges yet 
deeper into the great awful 4 voids of space, and 
sweeps in exultation o'er vast congeries, islands, con- 
tinents of worlds — millions, countless myriads of 
worlds; which, like huge starry billows, 5 crowd the 
limitless serial ocean; and still unsated, still unsatis- 
fied, rushes on, as the blazing glories continuously 
unfold themselves to its enchanted gaze ! This is but 
the beginning of education in the Deity — but the first 
lisping of the infant Spirit in its study of the Infinite ! 

Nor does it confine itself alone to its aerial study, 
nor to unassisted vision, in the examination of Nature's 
great volume open spread before it, but with micro- 
scopic aid dives into the equal wonders of the unseen 
beneath its feet; hovers o'er, and studies with eager- 
ness the movements of the insect nation crowded in 
the bottom of the lily — each member of the busy 



52 

throng 'instinct with life, defined in individuality? 
each with its loves, and hates, and proper stimulus to 
action — watches with like curiosity the infusoria mil- 
lions, sporting and fighting in the single liquid drop; 
invisible nothings to its naked eyesight, through 
magnifying power springing into entity and being; 
— discovers the gaudy unsuspected plumage on the 
insect's wing — detects the crystal's angles — with its 
prism, even dissects, and delightedly holds suspended, 
quivering in its constituent colors, light itself, its own 
natural stimulus — scoops from the ocean of Eternity, a 
drop, and calls it Time — and weighs, in like exquisite 
balance, the minute grain and distant worlds. And 
yet, this little eye, this retina, this organ so indis- 
pensable, — the key to open these wondrous mysteries, 
is a part, and but a portion, of the much despised 
body. 

But what were all this to the gentle Spirit whose 
law is love, love which tends continually back to its 
great Creator, who Himself is love, if, locked up in 
loneliness, it could not through the sense of hearing, 
receive the tones of tenderness, gentleness, devotion : 
the interchange of thought with other intelligences — 
hear the mother's deep accents of affection, the prattle 
of the child ; the gentle voice of Charity ; the glorious 
harmonies which float it away as if by magic, until 
in ecstacy, it is merged and almost lost, in the unseen 
Infinite; or the louder, and terrific crash, which 
frightens it, cowering, into more immediate apprehen- 



53 

sion of the Deity? Doubtless the body is the servant 
of the Soul ; but the connection of a minister of such 
necessity, provided by the Infinite, precludes the idea 
of accident; and we may well be startled, when we 
reflect to what account we shall be held for its abuse 
and injury; injury inevitable, when, in the least 
degree we o'erstep the bounds of rigid temperance; 
injury which paralyzes that harmony of action, which 
is its appointed function. 

1 Planets. 

2 A Nebula in the constellation " Aquarius " is estimated to be three 
thousand six hundred millions of miles in extent . One in " Lyra,"' to be 
distant from the earth forty-seven thousand billions of miles ; another, in 
the constellation " Triangulum," seventeen thousand billions of miles. The 
nearest (!) star to our system is Alpha, in " Centaurus," which is computed 
to be twenty billions of miles distant. Our own solar system, although it is 
five thousand seven hundred millions of miles in diameter, is a mere point 
in the Universe. (Bouvier's Astronomy.) 

3 This magnificent scene presents itself near " Kappa," in the constella. 
tion " Crucis." See Bouv. Ast., p. 250-284. For others, see Nichols' Stellar 
Universe, p. 172. 

4 While it is hopeless for us to form even a faint idea of these awful 
distances, yet we may make a feeble effort at approximation towards their 
reality, by considering that a railroad car traveling night and day, at the 
rate of twenty miles an hour, would require three hundred millions of years 
to reach the star " Sirius ; " (Bouvier's Ast.) — that with the electric fluid 
flashing through space, at a velocity of twenty thousand miles a second, it 
would alike require, were such transmission possible, ninety years to convey 
a telegraphic message to star 61, " Cygni ; " and thirty years to Alpha. 
" Centauri," the nearest fixed scar to the earth. (Bouvier's Ast.) 

5 See Nichol's Stellar Universe, pp. 72, 73. 



FREEDOM OF THE WILL. 



("CAN THE INFINITELY PERFECT BEING HAVE GIVEN MAN FREEDOM OF 
WILL, WHICH IS, THE LIBERTY TO OVERTHROW ORDER?") 

If we accord to the examination of this subject the 
same moderation and sobriety, that we do to other 
important questions in human life, we shall have but 
little difficulty in arriving at a conclusion. 

The question is, not whether God could not have 
created man without giving him liberty; constraining 
him thereby always to will only that which is good, 
in the same manner as it is supposed in Christianity, 
that the blessed in Heaven are, without ceasing, 
impelled to love God. Who can doubt that God was 
the absolute master to create man from the beginning, 
in that state, and to have fixed him there? 

I confess, that it cannot be demonstrated by the 
nature of our souls, nor by the rules of Supreme order, 
that God has not placed all the human race in this 
state of happy and holy necessity; and that it must 
be allowed that it is only the will entirely uncon- 
strained and supreme of God, that has created man 
free; that is to say, exempt from compulsion, without 



56 

fixing him in the necessity to will always that which 
is good. 

What is conclusive, however, in the matter, is the 
internal conviction which we entertain, without ceas- 
ing, of our freedom of will. Our reason consists alone 
in our clear ideas : we have but to consult them 
attentively, to conclude whether a proposition be false 
or true. It does not depend uj3on us to believe that 
the yes is the no; that a circle is a triangle; that a 
valley is a mountain; that night is day. From whence 
comes it that it is absolutely impossible for us to con- 
found these things? It is, that reason compels u^s to 
consult our ideas; and that the idea of a circle is 
absolutely different from that of a triangle; the idea 
of a valley excludes that of a mountain; and that of 
day is opposed to the idea we have of night. Argue 
as much as we please, we can entertain no serious 
doubt as to our clear ideas. We do not judge of 
them; but it is by them that we judge, and they are 
the immutable rule of all our decisions. We do not 
deceive ourselves, save in not consulting them with 
sufficient exactness. If we affirm nothing which they 
do not present, and deny nothing which they do not 
exclude with clearness, we shall never fall into error; 
our judgment will be suspended, when the idea we 
consult appears not sufficiently clear, and will yield 
only to unquestionable distinctness. In one word, the 
exercise of our reason reduces itself to the consultation 
of our ideas. Those who reject, speculatively, this 



57 

rule, do not understand themselves, and from necessity, 
follow without ceasing in practice, what they reject in 
speculation. 

The fundamental principle of all reason being thus 
given, I sustain that our free will is one of those 
truths, of which every sane man has an idea so clear, 
that the evidence of it is invincible. We can, indeed, 
dispute against this truth with our lips, and through 
passion, in the schools, as the Pyrrhoniens disputed 
ridiculously, as to the verity of their proper existence, 
avowing doubt of everything, without exception; but 
it may be said of those who contest the freedom of the 
will, as was said of the Pyrrhoniens, u It is a sect, not 
of philosophers, but of liars." They gloried in doubt 
though doubt was not in their power. 

Every rational man, who consults and listens to 
himself, bears within himself an invincible decision in 
favor of his liberty. This idea represents to us that 
we are not culpable, save when we do that which we 
could have avoided; that is to say, have done such 
acts from choice, without being determined thereto by 
a cause superior to our will. This is a truth, says St. 
Augustin, for the interpretation of which we have no 
need to dive into the reasonings of books. It is what 
all nature proclaims ; it is imprinted in our hearts ; it 
is what all understand, from the children in their 
schools to the throne of the wise Solomon; what the 
shepherds sing on the mountains; the bishops teach 
in the holy places; and what the human race maintains 



58 

throughout the Universe. We can no more doubt, 
seriously and sincerely, our mental liberty, than we 
can doubt the existence of the bodies which surround 
us. 

In dispute, our imaginations become heated; we 
deceive ourselves; we make ourselves believe that we 
doubt, and confuse, through vain sophisms, the most 
palpable truths; but in practice, we admit liberty in 
the same manner, that we recognize that we have arms, 
and legs, and bodies, and are surrounded by other 
bodies against which we must not impinge. 

Reason as much as we please upon our ideas, we 
must follow them without fear of deceiving ourselves, 
or become absolutely Pyrrhonien. Universal doubt is 
unsustainable Should our clear ideas even deceive 
us, it is useless to debate, to ascertain whether we 
follow, or do not follow, them; their evidence is invin- 
cible; it masters our judgment; and if they deceive 
us, we are under the inevitable necessity of being 
deceived. In that case, we do not deceive ourselves. 
It is a power superior to ourselves, which deceives us, 
and devotes us to error. What can we do, if we 
follow not our reason? If that deceives us, who is 
there that shall undeceive us? Have we within our- 
selves another reason, superior to our reason, by the 
aid of which we can distrust it, and rectify it? This 
reason reduces itself to our ideas, which we consult 
and compare together. Could we, by the assistance of 
our ideas alone, place our ideas themselves in doubt? 



59 

Have we within ourselves a second reason to contradict 
the first? No, doubtless! We can suspend our con- 
clusion when our ideas are obscure, and when that 
obscurity holds us in suspense: but when they are as 
clear as that two and two make four, doubt would not 
be a use of reason, but insanity. If we deceive our- 
selves in following reason, which draws us onwards by 
its invincible evidence, it is the infinitely perfect Being 
who deceives us. We do our duty in allowing 
ourselves to be deceived; and we would be wrong in 
resisting this evidence, which subjugates us in spite of 
our vain resistance. I sustain, with St. Augustin, that 
the truth of free will, and its daily exercise, is an 
evidence so intimate, so unanswerable, that no man 
who does not dream can doubt it in practice. 

Let us come to familiar examples, to render this 
truth sensible. We will suppose a man who affects 
the profound philosopher, and who denies the freedom 
of the will. We will enter into no dispute with him, 
but will put him to the proof, in the most common 
affairs of life, to confound himself. We will suppose 
that the wife of this man is unfaithful ; that his son 
despises and disobeys him; his friend betrays him; his 
servant robs him. We will say to him, when he com- 
plains, " Doubtless, they are not wrong — they are not 
free to do otherwise." Think you that he will be 
satisfied with such reasoning? That lie will excuse 
the infidelity of his wife, the insolence and ingrati- 
tude of his son, the treason of his friend, and the 



60 

robbery of his domestic? Is it not certain, that this 
man, who so boldly denies the freedom of the will in 
the schools, will recognize it as incontestible in his 
mansion, and that he will be none the less implacable 
against the offenders, than if he had sustained, all his 
life, the dogma of the most extreme liberty? 

Again, say to him, that the community censure him 
for such and such an act, in the commission of which 
they condemn him as being in the wrong ; he will answer 
in justification, that he was not free to avoid it, and 
that he doubts not, that he will stand excused in the 
eyes of every one when he shows that he acted, not 
from choice, but from necessity. We see, then, that 
this imaginary opponent of free will is compelled to 
admit in practice, what he denies in theory. 

It is true, that there are certain acts which we are 
not free to do, and which we avoid, from necessity. In 
such case, we have no motive or reason to will, ade- 
quate to affect our understanding, to place us in 
suspense, and to cause us to enter into serious deliber- 
ation as to whether it is proper to do such acts, or 
to avoid them. Thus a man who is sound in body and 
mind, virtuous, and full of religion, is not free to throw 
himself out of a window, to run naked through the 
streets, or to kill his children. In a normal state of 
mind, he could have neither will to do these acts, 
subject of deliberation, or real indifference of will, as 
regards them. It could be only a melancholy madness, 
or a despair similar to that of divers pagans, which 



61 

could plunge him into such extremity; but as we 
perceive within ourselves, an utter inability to commit 
acts so insane while we have the use of our reason; so 
we feel, on the other hand, that we are unconstrained 
as regards all the affairs upon which we deliberate 
seriously. In reality, nothing would be more ridicu- 
lous than to deliberate, if we had no right to choose, 
and if we were always inevitably predestined to one 
single part. 

We deliberate, nevertheless, very often; and we 
cannot doubt that our deliberations are well founded, 
when they revolve around many different points, all of 
which appear to have their semblance of good, and 
their peculiar motive to attract us. Indeed, it behooves 
us to believe, that all the life of man passes in the pure 
delusion of a dream ; in deliberations which are mere 
child's play; or to conclude that we are free in all the 
ordinary cases where the human race deliberates, and 
thinks it decides. It is thus that we determine within 
ourselves, to rise or remain sitting; to speak, or be 
silent; to delay our repast, or to make it at once. It 
is in such things, that it is impossible for us to enter- 
tain a doubt as to the use of our liberty. 

It must likewise be admitted, that man is not free 
with regard to good taken in general, nor with the 
sovereign good clearly known. Liberty consists in a 
species of counterpoise of the will, between two parts. 
Man cannot choose, except between objects worthy of 
some choice, possessing attraction in themselves, and 



62 

which present a species of equilibrium towards each 
other. It requires, on the part of the one or the other, 
true ro apparent, reasons to will; these are what we 
call motives. And there is good only — true or appar- 
ent, which excites the will; for evil, in so far as it is 
evil, without any intermingling of good, is a nullity, 
deprived of all attraction. 

It is necessary that the exercise of liberty should be 
founded on a species of counterpoise, which presents 
itself among the various attractions proposed. It 
requires that the understanding and the will should be 
in equipoise between these attractions, true or apparent ; 
for it is manifest, that when we put on one side of the 
scale, good considered in general — that is to say, the 
totality of good, without exception — that we cannot 
put on the other, alone the absence of all good; and 
that the will can be in suspense, or deliberate seriously, 
between everything and nothing. 

Besides, if we suppose the sovereign good, present 
and clearly known, we could not oppose to it any other 
good which could counterbalance it, The infinite out- 
weighs the finite. The disproportion is infinite. The 
understanding, in such case, could not doubt, nor 
hesitate, nor suspend, for a moment, its decision. The 
will would be enraptured, and swept away, and delib- 
eration, in such case, would not be deliberation, but 
insanity; and insanity is impossible, in a state where 
we suppose the supreme truth and goodness clearly 
present, and known. We cannot hesitate, then, as to 



63 

the Supreme good, save in not knowing it ; or in know- 
ing it, only, so superficially, imperfectly, and confusedly, 
. as to degrade it to a point, which causes us to compare 
it with good infinitely inferior to it. Then the obscu- 
rity of this grand object, and the distance from which 
we survey it, causes a species of equality with the 
smallness of the finite object, which thus apj^ears to us 
present and sensible. In this false equality, man 
deliberates and chooses, and exercises his liberty 
between good infinitely unequal. But when the 
Swpreme good shows itself suddenly, with evidence — 
with its infinite and all-powerful attraction, it absorbs 
at once the love of the will; and causes all other good 
to disappear as the fullness of day dissipates the dark- 
ness of night. 

It is easy to see, that in the course of this life the 
major part of the good which presents itself to us, is 
either so mediocre, or so obscure, that we are left in a 
state to compare it. It is by this comparison that we 
deliberate, to choose; and when we deliberate, we are 
conscious that we are masters to choose; because, the 
view of none of this good is sufficiently powerful to 
destroy the counterpoise, and to sweep away, invincibly, 
our will. It is in weighing these opposites that liberty 
is exercised. 

Deprived of this liberty, all human life would be 
thrown into confusion, and there would be no longer 
a trace of order in society. If men are not free, in 
what they do of good or evil, good is no longer good, 



61 

and evil no longer evil. If a necessity, inevitable and 
invincible, causes us to will all that we will, we are no 
more responsible for it, than the spring of a machine is 
responsible for the movement which is mechanically 
impressed upon it. In such case, it would be ridicu- 
lous to find fault with the will, which acts no farther 
than it is compelled to act, by another power dis- 
guished from it. We must go straight to the cause, as 
we go to the hand that lifts a rod to strike us, with- 
out stopping at the rod, which strikes us not, save 
through the agency of the hand which guides it. 
Take away liberty, you leave on the earth neither vice, 
virtue, nor merit. Recompenses are ridiculous, and 
chastisements, unjust and odious. We do only what 
we ought to do, since we act from compulsion. It is 
not incumbent on us to avoid what is inevitable, nor 
to vanquish that which is invincible. All is in order; 
for order is, that all yields to necessity. 

What is there more strange than that men should 
be willing thus to contradict their proper ideas; that 
is to say, the voice of their reason ; to obstinately sus- 
tain whao they are, without ceasing, constrained to 
deny in practice, to establish a doctrine, which over- 
turns all order and government; which confounds vice 
and virtue; which authorizes the most monstrous 
infamy ; which extinguishes shame and remorse ; which 
degrades and disfigures, without resource, the whole 
human race? 

Wherefore would men thus stifle the voice of their 



65 

reason? It is to throw off the yoke of religion; it is 
to allege a nattering helplessness in favor of vice 
against virtue. It is pride, alone, and the most un- 
hallowed passions, which can drive man to such 
violent excess against his reason. But this excess 
itself should open the eyes of him who has fallen into 
it. Should we not distrust our corrupt hearts, and 
reject ourselves as judges, when we perceive that this 
frantic taste for evil leads us to contradict ourselves; 
to deny our proper liberty, the intimate conviction of 
which overwhelms ns at each moment ? "A doctrine 
so enormous and so mad," as Cicero says of the Epi- 
eurians. " should not be discussed in the schools, but 
be punished by the magistrates." 

It is asked, " How is it that the infinitely perfect 
Being, who tends, according to his nature, to the high- 
est perfection of his work, can have created man free ; 
that is to say, have left him to his proper choice, 
between good and evil, between order, and the over- 
turning of order ? Wherefore could he have abandoned 
man to his proper helplessness, knowing, before hand,- 
that the use he would make of it would be that of 
destroying himself, and throwing into disorder the 
work Divine?" 

I answer — that what they would deny is incontesti- 
ble. On the one side, they admit that there is but the 
infinitely perfect being, who has created man; on the 
other, all nature cries, that our wills are free. We can 
compel the man that denies this freedom, to affirm it 



66 

continually in all of the more serious affairs of life. 
This truth will escape from him in spite of himself, so 
full is he of it, even when he is the most desirous to con- 
test it. It is evident that the infinitely perfect Being 
has created us with freedom of will. The fact is clear 
and decisive. We can refine to the extreme, to prove that 
the infinitely perfect Being could not have put this 
imperfection and source of disorder into his work. 
But the answer is short and trenchant. The infinitely 
perfect Being knows much better than Ave what belongs 
to his infinite perfection; and it is evident, that man 
who is his work, is free; for it cannot be denied, with- 
out renouncing his proper reason. The infinitely per- 
fect Being has shown that the liberty of man can 
accord with the infinite perfection of the Creator. 
Finite intelligence should be silent, then, and humiliate 
itself, when that Being decides in practice the whole 
question. Certainly, he has not violated order; and 
has made man free, since man cannot himself stine the 
voice of his heart, which proclaims incessantly his 
liberty. 

If feeble-minded man cannot comprehend how this 
liberty, source of all disorder, can accord with the 
Supreme order in the works of God; he has only to 
believe humbly what he cannot understand ; it is his 
reason which holds him subjugated, without ceasing, 
to this innate conviction of the freedom of his will. 
Though even he cannot comprehend, by his reason, a 
truth, s_of which his reason permits no doubt, it is 



67 

necessary for him to regard this truth, in the same 
light as he is compelled to regard so many others, in 
the natural order of things; truths which he can 
neither explain, nor yet call seriously in question ; as 
for example, that of matter, which we can neither 
suppose composed of atoms, nor divisible to infinity, 
without insurmountable difficulties. * * 

We manifestly deceive ourselves, when we imagine 
that the infinitely perfect Being owes it to himself, for 
the conservation of his perfection and order, that he 
should give to that work the highest order and purity 
which he could give to it. * * 

God, in creating man free, has not abandoned him 
to himself. He has enlightened him by reason. He is 
himself within him, to inspire him with good, to 
reproach him w T ith the least evil, to attract him by his 
promises, to retain him by his menaces, to soften him 
by his love. He pardons us, supports us, w^aits 
for us, suffers our ingratitude and contempt ; he 
tires not to invite us, 'till the last moment, and life 
entire is a continual grace. 

I confess, that when man is represented as without 
liberty for good, from whom God demands virtues 
which are impossible, that this abandonment of God 
fills me with horror. It is contrary to his order and 
benevolence; but it is not contrary to the order which 
God has left to the choice of man, assisted by his orace 
to render himself happy by virtue, or miserable by sin; 
so that if he is deprived of the Celestial recompense, it 



68 

is because he rejects it, when it is, so to say, within his 
hands. In this state, man suffers no evil, save that 
which he elects for himself, being fully master to 
procure for himself the greatest blessings. 

God, in creating man free, has endowed him with a 
wonderful trait of resemblance to the Divinity, of which 
he is the image. It is a marvelous power in the created, 
and dependent being, that this dependence prevents not 
his freedom, and that he can modify himself as he 
pleases. He makes himself good or evil at his pleasure; 
he turns his will towards either, as he choses, and is, 
like God, master of his interior action. * * None 
of the attractions which present themselves here 
below surmount his will ; none influence him invin- 
cibly ; all is left to his proper determination. He is his 
own master ; he deliberates, and decides, and has 
supreme empire over his own proper decision. 

Is it not in keeping with the perfection of God, that 
he places man by this liberty in a state to merit it? 
What is greater in the creature than merit % Merit is 
a reward which man gains by his choice, and which 
renders him worthy of greater rewards, as he earns 
them. By it, man elevates, increases, perfects himself, 
and engages God to grant him still further blessings, 
which are called recompense. Is it not beautiful, and 
worthy of order, that God has not willed to confer 
happiness upon him until it has been earned? This 
succession of degrees, through which man ascends ; is it 
not in keeping with the wisdom of God, and proper to 



69 

embellish his work '{ It is true, that man cannot deserve, 
without being capable of demerit; but \l is not to 
produce demerit, that God has given us liberty. Pie 
has granted reward only in favor of well doing, and it 
is for merit, which is its only end, that he permits the 
demerit to which liberty exposes man. It is not the 
intention of God, and it is in spite of his succor, that 
man makes bad use of such excellent gift ; a faculty so 
proper to his perfection. 

Gocl, in granting liberty to man, has displayed his 
bounty, his magnificence, and love ; nevertheless, if man 
contrary to his intention, abuses this freedom, by the 
evasion of order, in the commission of sin, he will cause 
him to return to that order, in another manner ; by the 
chastisement of his sin. Thus all wills are submitted 
to order; some, in loving, and persevering in this love; 
others in re-entering into it, through repentance of their 
wandering ; and others by the just punishment of their 
final impenitence. Thus order prevails in all men ; it 
is inviolably conserved in the innocent ; repaired in 
converted sinners; and avenged by the eternal justice;. 
which is itself the Sovereign order, in impenitent sin- 
ners. 

If we regard the depth of the wisdom of God in the 
permission of sin, we find there nothing unjust to man, 
since he suffers not his wandering, save in furnishing 
him at the same time with all the necessary help to 
prevent it. If we regard this permission, in connection 
with God himself, it has nothing which detracts from 



70 

his order or goodness, since be only suffers that which 
he has neither caused, nor procured. He opposes to 
sin all the succor of reason and grace. There remains 
but his Almighty will, which opposes it not ; because 
he will not violate the freedom which he has left to 
man in favor of merit; and which escapes from order, 
only on the side of goodness and recompense, to re-enter 
it at the same time, on the other through justice, and 
chastisement. Thus order, which lias two essential 
parts, subsists inviolably by this alternative of mercy, 
or justice; to each of which it properly appertains. 

Finally, we come to the conclusion of the question 
proposed. That free will is incontestible. That those 
who deny it, need no refutation, because they palpably 
contradict themselves ; and that it is necessary to recog- 
nize our freedom without ceasing, or surrender our 
reason, and cease to live as men. 

That which nature persuades us of so overwhelm- 
ingly, is again certified by the authority of God, 
speaking in the Scriptures. Why do we hesitate to 
believe ? Whence comes it, that man, so credulous for 
all that flatters his pride and his passions, should search 
so eagerly to cavil against these truths ; truths which 
should fill him with consolation ? It is that man fears to 
find a God infinitely good, who desires his love, and 
requires from him a society which will render him 
supremely blessed. It is that he fears to find that his soul 
dies not with his body ; and that after this short and 
unhappy life, God prepares for him, a life celestial and 



71 

without end. It is that he fears to find a God, who 
leaves him master of his own fate, to render himself 
happy by his virtue, or miserable by his vice ; and who 
wouldonly be served by him voluntarily. 

From whence comes this fear, so unnatural, so incredu- 
lous, so contrary to our dearest interests ? It is, that self 
love is an insane love, an extravagant love, a lost 
love, traitor to itself. We fear much more to restrain 
our passions and our vanity, during the short number 
of our days counted to us here below, than to lose the 
infinite good, to renounce life eternal, and to precipitate 
ourselves into eternal despair. What should be ex- 
pected from the reasoning of minds so diseased, and so 
distrustful of all cure? Would we listen with serious- 
ness to men, who should in any other matter, entertain 
prejudices so incurable against their welfare? There is 
but one remedy for so many evils, which is, that man 
shall enter within his own proper heart, not to possess 
himself of it, but to let it be possessed, by God ; that he 
should pray to him, listen to him, distrust himself, 
confide in him, acknowledge his pricle, call for aid in 
his helplessness to repress his passions, recognizing 
that self-love is the wound of his heart, and that he can 
find neither health, nor peace, save in the love of God. 



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